


death by sex

by Anonymous



Series: zsaszmask writings [3]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awkward Sexual Situations, Dildos, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Sexual Content, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Swearing, Voyeurism, What Have I Done, i have so much shame, im sorry roman, the whole concept of this fic is that Victor Gets A Dildo (tm), this is absolutely not shameless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Victor's home alone with his recent purchase, sexual frustration, and time to pass. What's a guy to do?
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz, Victor Zsasz/Others
Series: zsaszmask writings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078277
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous





	death by sex

**Author's Note:**

> work title is from a kim petras song by the same name.
> 
> featuring: victor zsasz, a dildo and much talk of roman sionis' pretty blue eyes

It’s not that Victor Zsasz has never had anything up his ass before. Honestly, he thinks that would be pretty much fucking impossible considering he’s horny and gay and stuck pining over his boss in Gotham fucking City, the filthiest place on Earth. He can easily find a partner that doesn’t care about the scars scattering over his body and the violence they signify. (He can also find one that won’t be missed, if he needs to shut them up about the way he cried out a far too familiar name when his back arched for the final time of the night.) It’s just that he’s never done it himself before, apart from using his fingers.

Before he worked for Roman, when he bounced from job to job relishing in the violence more than the money, he hadn’t really been financially stable enough to, well…  _ treat himself.  _ Now that he is, there was the exhausting ordeal of waiting for the toy to arrive by mail (and panicking that Roman might get to it before him, because they live together so he can watch over his boss 24/7, like a good bodyguard. Sometimes, he wonders how he got here. He was never an overachiever before), there was the little thrill of opening it up in his room and then there was the frustrating realization that he would have to wait for Roman to actually get the fuck out of the house before he could use it. 

He really doesn’t want his boss to catch him with a big ol’ matte black silicone cock up his ass. The thought of Roman bursting in and catching him vulnerable, scraping those piercing blue eyes up and down his body and knowing just how fucking depraved his henchman is, that  _ isn’t  _ arousing. He can easily drive it from his mind as he flicks open the cap of the lube with his thumb.

Now, it’s finally time. Roman’s cited some meeting with some bigshots from his dad’s company that Victor absolutely cannot come to, considering he looks like he always does. For once, Victor’s actually happy to be separated from his newly minted, several month long obsession. Finally, he can figure out how to go about this. 

Slathering lube over his fingers and opening himself up is a simple task, one he’s well used to and can accomplish pretty quickly by this point. It’s the actual point of the whole exercise that’s new. 

He pops the cap again and drizzles out as much of the fluid as he dares to without leaving too big of a frustrating puddle on the pristine sheets underneath the strangely enticing plastic shape. Carefully, he spreads it well enough over the curved length that he thinks it’ll go in smoothly and rotates so he can press the artificial head against his opening. 

At first, he tries to bite back the groan that threatens to escape as he presses it in, slowly skewering himself. Then, he remembers that there’s no one around to hear it. 

“Fuuck…” he drawls, his already gravelly voice becoming rougher by the second. 

Once it’s in far enough that he can feel the flared base against the swell of his ass, his groaning has picked up in volume and his breaths have done the same in their pace. After the initial push and pull has been achieved and he’s made sure that everything will fit with nothing more than the appropriate pleasurable burn, he can start fucking himself with it in earnest. 

The first few strokes are experimental, the awkward bend and reach of his arm takes some getting used to. Then, the dildo presses hard against his prostate and he decides it’s time to crank things up a notch, panting as he jerks the toy in and out as quickly as he can manage. It’s at this point that he wraps a hand around himself, too, just for good measure.

Then, once he’s worked himself into this rhythm, mouth wide open as if begging to be filled and tongue lolling onto the sheets and his cheek pressed obscenely into the plush bed below (above? He’s lost track of where gravity is supposed to be pulling him at this point) his scarred chest, that calamity strikes.

Roman doesn’t offer him the courtesy of a knock, even though Victor’s not sure how he could have possibly replied to it, regardless. He just bangs the door open to announce that things ended early, and then stares in disbelief. Those icy eyes rake over the scene in front of him with an expression (both scandalized and fucking fascinated) that Victor would have cut right off of anybody else, and what’s playing out right now is the nightmare that Victor was hoping to avoid. (He hushes the nagging voice in his head that teases that it’s more fantasy daydream than nightmare, really, because he doesn’t fucking need that right now.)

Ironically, Roman’s piercing stare is what pushes him over the edge (since he never even bothered to still his hand). 

“Boss, Roman,  _ fuck _ -” 

And after the streaks of cum splatter across his exposed belly, the absurdity of the situation hits. Even though his boss hasn’t torn his eyes away from the sight of him yet, he can’t stop himself. He fucking cackles. 

Zsasz’ so screwed. (Both metaphorically and literally.)


End file.
